


Suck My Sweaty Balls

by fickle_fics



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/M, Punk AU, grey white
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:32:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7461324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fickle_fics/pseuds/fickle_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grey has slightly odd desires, Malcolm can't say he minds too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suck My Sweaty Balls

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the wet/dirty prompt for seasonsofkink

Grey stood at the side of the stage watching as the great Malcolm F Tucker strode up and down the stage spouting vitriol into the mic in his hand. _Fuck_ he was hot when he was like this, so full of anger, so creatively expressed - his hate for the government, for the police, for the fucking world at large.

She’d grown up watching crappily shot videos of him on stage thirty years ago when his hair had still been black and he’d rip off his t-shirt when he got too hot. She’d fantasised about the rivets of sweat that rolled down his face, his body, imagined running her tongue from his navel up his torso more times than she could count.

Sadly for Grey Malcolm had since decided no one wanted to see his semi naked body any more and kept his t-shirt on, but she could see the sweat darkening the material as it clung to his body, could see his now silver hair sticking to his forehead with it. Malcolm F Tucker was wrong, there were plenty of people that still wanted him to rip off his top. Fuck if she’d been in the audience and not watching from backstage she might’ve asked for her money back, or yelled at him to get his tits out for the girls, obviously.

Still it wasn’t like she needed him to take his top off on stage, she’d have chance to do that for him soon enough.

He was introducing the band - an all new line-up apart from Jamie MacDonald who’d been with him since the 90s. Grey licked her lips and took a slow breath, his nails digging into her palms as she tried to calm herself. She’d have a couple of minutes maybe before they went back out for the encore. She had to be good. Ish.

Malcolm was the last one off stage, as always, but the moment he passed Grey his arm was around her, pulling her against his damp body without even missing his stride. 

Flash bastard!

“Two minutes,” he muttered as he pushed her up against the nearest wall and kissed her soundly, all teeth and tongue and aggression.

She could taste the salt of his sweat mixed with the burn of whiskey on his lips, felt it dampening her own hair as their foreheads pressed together and when he finally pulled back she couldn’t resist the urge to get a better taste, her tongue swiping over his jaw and up his cheek with a growl.

Malcolm only smirked, used to her not entirely normal behaviour by now. “Three songs, then back to the hotel, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Grey agreed.

 

She loved watching him perform, he’d lost nothing in the past thirty odd years, none of his passion, none of his spark, and none of whatever it was that made her far, far too eager to get him naked and do unspeakable things to him. And that was the problem of course, it was difficult to enjoy his encore too much when she knew it was only making her wait longer to be in their hotel room. It was always the same though, really she should have been used to it by now, but she wasn’t, not at all.

Half an hour after being pressed up against a wall by him Grey was finally alone with Malcolm, peeling off his wet t-shirt and dropping it to the floor before he looked over at her thoughtfully. “I should get a shower, I fucking _reek_ ,” he suggested.

She was giving him that look, that ‘I would fucking eat you alive if I could’ look, that tended to make his cock start paying attention to what was going to happen next. “I fucking knew it. Pervert.”

“I said nothing,” she protested as she stalked forward.

“You don’t have to say words, darling. I can see what’s going on in that fucking perfect filthy little mind of yours,I only have to look at your face to see the fucking porn movie playing in your head.” He smirked. “I’m just fucking happy I get to play the starring role.”

Grey was already crouched in front of him by the time he’d finished speaking, looking up at him, one eyebrow raised like she was asking for permission. His smirk was still in place as he looked down at her before she dipped her head and licked her way up from the waistband of his jeans to the top of his shoulder, her hands moving up his body to steady herself as she stood slowly to get at him as she went.

Okay so he didn’t exactly smell _clean_ , but it had never bothered her before, what was the point in taking a shower when you were only gonna get hot and sweaty again anyway? Plus she kinda liked it, the scent of his sweat, particularly when she’d been the one that got him in that state, but even now, as she stood in front of him, the taste of him on her tongue, she could smell him, musty and in theory unpleasant but in reality...fuck why did he turn her into such a dirty rotten perv? it wasn’t like she’d had far to go but he made weird thoughts pop into her head, like how she sort of wanted to sniff his armpit and bury her face against the soft hair there.

“Well?” he smirked.

“Think I need you on the bed, naked,” she admitted, pushing the thoughts out of her head.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow then, though he was already deftly undoing his flies. “You want to lick me clean, darling?” he growled. “Cos I should warn you I was pretty fucking hot up there for two fucking hours.”

A particularly undignified sound of desire escaped Grey’s throat. “That answer your question?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he said, pulling off the last of his clothes and climbing up onto the bed, sprawling out on it as quickly as he could, cock already half hard.

She moved to join him then stopped thinking better of it as she pulled off her t-shirt and jeans instead, clambered on to the bed after him, now completely naked.

“You know ‘suck my sweaty ballsack’s _meant_ to be abusive, don’t you, darling?” he asked. “It’s not meant to be a genuine offer. It’s not meant to be a fucking _actual_ suggestion. It’s not meant to make you _wet_.”

Grey shifted, sitting up, her arms wrapped around her chest. “You’re rapidly talking yourself out of a fucking blow job here, Tucker,” she warned. “And pretty much anything else.”

“Pretty much anything else?” he repeated. “So...not everything then?” When he caught the look on her face he sit up slipping his arm around her. “I’m joking,” he assured her. “Darling, I’m just fucking with you. You think I have any problem about how fucking _filthy_ you are?”

“It’s all your fault, y’know?” she said, unwrapping her arms from around herself. “D’you I think I want to lick the fucking sweat off anything else’s body?” she asked. “It’s you. You’re a fucking musical genius, You were my fucking...sexual awakening. I used you watch old fucking bootlegs on YouTube and wank over you.”

“How old were you?” 

“14.”

“Right, I’ll not try and imagine that then.”

“Never actually stopped doing it if that helps the mental image,” she told him. “Anyway you wanna know what I reckon it is?”

“What what is?”

“My desire to lick the fucking sweat from your body?”

“Okay.”

“It’s a worship thing. I’ve idolised you since I was a fucking child and now...fucking _now_...” she trailed off, shaking her head.

“Now you’re naked in my bed every night?” he offered.

“We’re really gonna have to start using my room sometimes, y’know, cos I’ve always liked the idea of having you naked in _my_ fucking bed.”

“What if you got to have me naked in your actual bed?” he offered.

“Don’t fuck with me like that, Tucker.”

“Like what?”

“Like we’re gonna keep fucking when the tour’s done.”

“Thought we might,”

“Fuck off!”

“You fuck off. Why the fuck not? You’re an incredibly fucking flexible 20 something with the sexual creativity of a fucking _team_ of porn directors, and I’m a fucking fading old bastard.”

“With a pretty impressive cock, and really fucking long fingers.”

Malcolm smirked. “Aye, and those fucking things.”

“Whatever. Can we get back to the business at hand?”

He sank back down on to the bed and beckoned her over.

“Tomorrow,” she said, as she straddled him, “reckon you can make the break between the end and the encore a bit longer?”

He propped himself up to look at her. “Why?” he asked already smiling.

“Cos I want you still wet,” she said. “ _This_ ,” she said gesturing over his naked body. “Isn’t quite the same.”

 

“That’s a very fucking specific fetish, darling,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s how fetishes work a lot of the time.”

Malcolm smirked. “Well you’re obviously the expert here, not me. But sure, okay. I’ll see what I can do.”


End file.
